


Want

by Saturn9



Series: Clandestine [6]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Pet Names, Porn with Feelings, also super sappy, its uh, pornier porn, than last time, they are playful which is nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 09:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn9/pseuds/Saturn9
Summary: *Following the events of "If You Let Me"It's what it says on the tin: Akira and Goro have sex for the first time.(Part of the Clandestine series but can be read alone.)





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> wow i managed to go a whole day without posting something else, ridiculous am i right? 
> 
> anyway please enjoy this porn

With the sling removed and stripped of his shirt, Goro was taciturn on the bed, ashamed of the weaknesses painted in shades of brown and purple across his torso. His injured arm was held close to his chest protectively; his fingers clenched and unclenched in a nervous tic. There was no cast, so he must have been able to move it, at least within limitation. Akira wrapped careful hands around his forearm, taking care to run the pads of his fingers in an exploratory line up Goro’s arm. When Goro didn’t resist, Akira turned the arm gently, exposing a trio of bruises on the inside of his elbow.

“Is it broken?” Akira asked, lightly trailing his fingers over the bruising that marred the soft, pale skin of Goro's arm. They were a deep sepia now, no longer fresh but still evident, stretching a few inches long and half as wide.

Goro shrugged awkwardly. “It's mostly healed. It was two months ago.”

Frowning, Akira looked up to Goro, who stubbornly refused to meet his gaze. He didn't have to ask: it was because of the night Goro came over. He had been punished, and Akira wasn't sure he wanted to know the details, because he didn't think he'd be able to restrain himself from physical violence if he did.

Akira leaned down to press gentle kisses over the bruises, slow and feather-light. With his shoulders hunched, his face turned away and flushed with embarrassment, for once Goro looked as delicate as he really was. Akira’s fingers slid to interlock with Goro's, the latter clutching him tight as if Akira was a rope over a cliff.

Akira shifted back again to admire the sight of Goro beneath him. The detective’s cheeks were dusted with a red that matched his eyes and spread down his neck and to his shoulders. He was slim, a stretch of soft skin over lithe muscles, smooth but colored with blemishes. Besides the bruising from his broken arm, a new series of bruises had surfaced over the last couple months, some a similar shade of fading sepia, others dark purple; they wrapped around the base of his throat, one side of his ribcage, his stomach. Goro had never talked about it, had never mentioned any trouble at home or any desire to get away from it; Akira could only hazard a guess at the details.

“You deserve so much better,” he whispered, his free hand lingering at the hollow of Goro's throat, settling like a protective shield over the imprint of someone else's hand. He could feel it when Goro swallowed; his eyes were cautious, trained on Akira’s every move, but his body was almost unnaturally slack against the bed.

Slowly, as if Akira might lash out like a hostile animal, Goro lifted his hand to brush Akira’s hair back from where it hung in his face.

“I want you,” Goro said, quiet but sincere. The implication flushed Akira with heat, but the memory of last time kept it at bay for now. “I know I sent some mixed signals last time, but it wasn’t you. You were-- you were perfect.”

The compliment made it a little harder to deny Goro.

“What do you want me to do?” Akira asked, letting the want seep into his voice.

Goro hesitated. “Whatever you want, as long as you’re inside me.”

The words sparked an enticing image: sinking deep into Goro, holding him close as they rocked against each other, one hand wrapped around Goro in turn. This time Akira couldn’t help the excited twitch of his growing erection; it strained at the zipper of his jeans, announcing that he was in no small measure very interested in that idea.

Akira climbed off Goro to help the other out of his pants, his own clothes following suit without ceremony. Goro’s hands were on him unexpectedly, teasing the nerves of his chest and abdomen with fluttery touches, ghosting over his nipples-- and _oh_ , Akira had never realized how sensitive they were before, but when Goro touched him, it was electric.

The detective’s hands slid farther down Akira’s body, squeezing his hip, grazing his thigh, until finally one wrapped loosely around Akira. The jerk of his hips was automatic; in the darkness of the last two months, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the feel of Goro’s hand around him, how it might feel to slide into him, to take him wholly and completely. (Not that he hadn’t thought about it the other way around, too, but that wasn’t what Goro was asking for right now.)

“You might have to let me go for that,” Akira managed to joke with a pleased, breathy laugh.

“Or I make you work for it.” Goro’s glance was coy through heavy lashes, a classic smile stretching across his face. It was almost genuine, except for the nerves that lingered at the corners of Goro’s eyes. Maybe Detective Akechi had come from somewhere, Akira thought absently, but then Goro wrapped both hands around Akira, stroking him just fast enough to make him stop thinking about pretty much anything except where to get more of _that_.

“You’re trouble,” Akira murmured as he leaned forward to capture Goro’s lips. He could feel the detective melt beneath him, the stroke of his hands going just a little bit off, his back curving to press into the kiss with an open mouth. His breathing hitched as Akira snuck one hand between them to circle Goro’s cock, rubbing his thumb along the sensitive vein. Blindly, he teased his way up the underside, drawing soft patterns until he reached the head; as Akira’s thumb slid along Goro’s slit, the detective broke the kiss with a soft moan.

Extracting himself from Goro’s devilish touch was hell in and of itself, but the thought of pressing a finger into him was too tempting to resist. It was one quick search through the end table before Goro’s knees were bent invitingly and Akira was sliding slick fingers against his entrance.

“Akira,” Goro all but whimpered, rocking his hips toward the fingers that teased in circles. No one had ever said his name quite like that before, and it was all Akira could do to keep his hands steady and off of the ache between his thighs.

The first finger slid in slowly, met with only slight resistance as Goro moaned again and rolled his hips down into the intrusion. The pace Akira took to prepare Goro was torturously slow, but watching the normally composed detective become undone in a whole new way was a reward of its own. When he added a second finger, Goro positively crumpled, his hands scrabbling at the bed to clutch the sheets in his fists. He rocked again as Akira curled his fingers in search.

It wasn’t difficult to know when he had found it: an urgent, keening noise tore itself from Goro’s throat at the same time that his hand fastened around Akira’s bicep. Licking his lips, Akira couldn’t help but smile and deviously curl his fingers back against that spot, feeling the way Goro’s hole tightened around his fingers in reaction.

“Don’t stop,” Goro begged, and who was Akira to deny that? He wanted so badly to make Goro feel good for a change; he didn’t even care if he came tonight. He kept his fingers rocking in the same motion through the roll of Goro’s hips, drinking in the sight as the detective wrapped a hand around his own cock, giving into the desperation that was building.

He came long and hard, striking white across his chest and abdomen as Akira kept his fingers pressing rhythmically, until a final, almost pained shudder racked Goro’s body. Akira began to pull away from the boneless body, thinking he should probably clean up (maybe with a cold shower) so they could go to bed, but Goro caught him by the wrist.

“I’m ready,” he said. “I meant it; I want you.”

Searching Goro’s face, Akira couldn’t find any reason to argue, especially given that he was practically dripping just from fingering the detective.

After applying a liberal amount of thick oil, Akira settled between Goro’s legs, resting the tip of his cock against him. He paused to give ample time for Goro to change his mind, to back out, but he was met with nothing but enthusiasm as Goro locked his ankles behind Akira’s back and pulled him closer.

It was heaven, or as close to it as Akira was ever going to get, anyway. The tight fit of Goro’s hole stretching around him, the full-body flush that colored the detective’s skin, the way Goro moaned his name again, like it was his salvation. Akira sank in slowly to the pull of Goro’s legs as the other made soft, needy noises in the back of his throat. His cock was half-hard again, pink and resting across his lower stomach, too tempting to resist touching.

When Akira’s fingers circled it, Goro jerked, digging his blunt nails into Akira’s shoulders hard enough to sting. It was good, and raw, and Akira couldn’t help but want to undo Goro at the seams. After a few awkwardly angled strokes, he relinquished his grip on Goro’s erection to seek out the other’s hands, interlacing their fingers and pressing their joined hands into the bed. He was mindful of Goro's injured arm, waiting for any sign of discomfort, but if anything, Goro drove his heels harder to pull Akira into him.

Akira’s thrusts were maddeningly slow, long and drawn out, partially for fear of hurting Goro and partially because anything faster would send him over the edge too soon. And from the way Goro was already gripping him like a vise, Akira didn’t think he was the only one. Goro was glowing with the sheen of already having come once, still blushing with arousal, working himself half-insane just from rocking into Akira’s thrusts. Open-mouthed, lips kissed pink and full, he was an even prettier sight than usual.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Akira whispered. His only response was a small, helpless moan that Akira pulled closer to capture. Between short, heated kisses, Akira kept murmuring the sweetest nothings. “I'm going to take care of you; I promise. You're safe now.”

“Akira,” Goro said again; his grip on Akira's hands was white-knuckled, his nails biting into the backs of Akira's hands.

The sound of his name was almost too much. Akira needed more of Goro, needed him closer. He gave Goro’s mouth one last lingering kiss before he shifted backward, pulling on Goro's good arm to lift him off the bed and onto Akira’s lap.

Throwing his arm around Akira's neck, Goro pulled himself up to plant kisses along his jawline; the weight of gravity forced the detective farther down on Akira’s cock, pulling moans from both of them as they settled into a new rhythm.

“Goro,” Akira managed in warning, “I’m getting close.”

“Don’t stop,” Goro urged breathlessly. “I need you; don’t stop.”

Akira couldn’t stop the quiet groan that the plead pulled from his chest. One hand slipped to grip the base of Goro’s neck, pressing their foreheads together as they rocked against each other; the other gripped his thigh for leverage to pull the detective harder, faster, as the heavy heat between them came to a head. Goro’s movements became even more desperate, almost frantic, his breath coming in short pants across Akira’s cheeks.

“I’ve got you,” Akira whispered. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Goro crushed their lips together messily as he came; his cum spilled between them, staining both of their stomachs. As the vise around him gripped him even tighter, Akira’s world went blank white, stars flashing across his vision as he finally came, pressed deep into Goro.

For a long minute, he could only sit there shuddering in rapture, both hands still gripping Goro close. Goro’s hands worked tenderly through his black, sweat-damp hair as Akira tried to find his breath. Goro wasn’t making it easy on him; the detective leaned forward to join their lips together in a slow, languid kiss.

They parted as Akira finally slipped out of Goro and released the death grip on the back of his neck. Well spent, the two of them collapsed in the mess they made, still recovering.

“‘Baby,’ huh?” Goro finally said into the easy silence.

Of all the things Goro had said that night, that was the one that brought a dark, embarrassed flush rising to Akira’s cheeks.

“You seemed to like it at the time,” Akira muttered defensively.

“I’m not complaining. It’s… nice,” he said, although the look he gave Akira was complicated.

“I don’t have to--”

“No, I like it,” Goro insisted. “It’s just, it’s different. No one’s ever… called me anything like that.”

“Oh.” A moment passed, Akira’s afterglow-foggy brain struggling to process the idea. When Goro couldn’t meet his eyes out of embarrassment, it slowly registered. “Oh,” he repeated, “I can do more.”

“That’s not what I’m--”

“Sweetie. Pumpkin. Sugarplum. My precious daffodil flower.”

“Akira, _stop_ ,” Goro said, through the breathy laughter that shook his shoulders. Grinning, Akira drank in the sight of Goro: blissfully glowing through a sheen of sweat, pale skin stained pink from the rush of blood. And that smile that peeked through the laughter, small and beautiful, aimed right at him.  Akira would have gladly driven off a cliff for the sparkle in Goro's eyes, the tenderness of his voice when he eventually murmured, “‘Baby’ is fine.”


End file.
